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ghost-proofbaby · 8 months ago

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too sweet (astarion ancunin x reader)

"you know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain. pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. [...] you're too sweet for me."

summary: astarion realizes you're too sweet for him, and he probably shouldn't let this go further than necessary. but, oh, he's going to. isn't he? (based on this request and the song 'too sweet' by hozier <3)

pairing: astarion ancunin x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for games regarding camp dialogue with astarion, discussion of astarion's past trauma, talks of self-loathing/disgust with sex, vague mentions & allusions to sex having been had, manipulation at it's finest! minors dni.

wc: 2k+

a/n: i just wanted to get inside this man's mind when he drops that fucking line the second time he tries to sleep with us/tav. why does his face fall like that? why?

divider by @firefly-graphics <3

As Astarion observes the rise and fall of your chest in the soft morning light, he can only think one thing: shit. He fucked up.

And he had spent most of the early hours trying to retrace his steps, trying to decipher exactly where his monumental mistake had begun, but it seemed useless.

It could have been somewhere between the first and third bottle of wine shared with you last night during festivities, where he’d sweet-talked you to the high Hells until you’d agreed to return to his bedroll in the dead of night. Where he’d made the joke that wasn’t all that funny – the joke that he loved you. Three pretty words tried out on his tongue, and they hadn’t been nearly as light-hearted as he’d wanted them to be. More of an experiment, a quick sip to see if he liked the taste. And he had fucked up, because he did like the taste. He liked the sweetness that stuck to every corner of his mouth as he delivered the sugar-coated lie to you, his entire face falling as a new weight appeared in his chest.

But perhaps it had been the first night he tasted you – well, your blood, that is. The night he’d awoken from a nightmare of Cazador and in his vulnerability, had chosen you as his victim of yet another experiment. A test to see if he was truly free. One drop of a thinking creature’s blood, that was all he needed. But you’d given more than he’d bargained for, and your cloy ichor had coated his taste buds so addictively, and he had just known that night was only the beginning. It was the first time, but certainly not the last.

He thinks he could drink in whatever you offered him, and only that, for the rest of his days while still finding some sickly, twisted version of reprieve regardless. Not a drop more than he needed, always vying for more.

He’d be okay with that type of hunger, that type of yearning, and that might have been his first real mistake.

Or maybe, just possibly, it had been that very first meeting. Maybe he had doomed himself from the moment he’d pressed a blade to your neck, when he had dragged you to the ground with him and felt all that warmth, all that fear, radiating off of you. So frightful, and you still had offered your help to him when it was all said and done. Perhaps that was when he had well and truly screwed himself over. One simple introduction, void of his usual wine and flowers, and he’d locked himself in for pure trouble.

Not even the fun kind, at that. What a shame.

At the end of the day, or rather the beginning of the day as it is now, it doesn’t matter where his threads had started to unravel. All that matters is that they were – every carefully thought out line of his plans had all frayed, all detangled from the bigger picture, all because of you.

Heart of gold, blood of honey. You were far too sweet for him, and he knew it.

“Having fun, are you?”

“I am, it’s hard not to with you.”

You’d taken each of his tactics in stride, hadn’t you? Whereas his face had nearly crumbled beneath the weight of that beautiful lie, insides twisting uncomfortable as the humor had slipped through his fingers, your eyes had only glittered as you bit back a smirk. To so lightly tease him, to banter right back with him, instead of see the truth behind it all. He didn’t know if you were simply that naive or if you were another kindred soul – Perhaps you were finding just as much safety, just as much sanctuary, in whatever dance he’d dragged you into. An entanglement of lies, a blithe facade, a daring smile that whispers come now, play with me.

And play with him, you had.

You’d played with him, you’d drank with him, and you’d now slept with him. Twice.

“You’re up early,” your voice murmurs, silken tone cutting through all his racing thoughts.

He hadn’t even noticed you had stirred, rousing yourself out from underneath his stolen blankets to peer at him curiously as he perched on the edge of the bedroll. As far from you, and as far from your sweetness, as possible.

“Oh, you know what they say, my dear,” he chirps, rolling his shoulders as the act wraps him back up. The charismatic charmer. The illusive rogue, trained impeccably to coax you in and secure his safety, “No rest for the wicked.”

He’d awoken before you last time, too. Had watched the sun rise and enjoyed the warmth of it plastering across his skin long before you’d ever woken up. He half-hopes you’ll be less talkative this time; he half-hopes you’ll try to rope him into whatever discussion you can, if only for a few extra seconds of your attention.

You were too sweet. Too sugary on his tongue, too soothing in his chest. He shouldn’t entertain you – he shouldn’t let this go further than necessary.

You hum thoughtfully, the blanket slipping and exposing more of your chest. With the light flickering in from his tent’s entrance, he can easily spot those two scarring dots along your jugular where his fangs fit perfectly, “I don’t know if I’d describe you as wicked, lover.”

“No?” Roped into discussion, it is. “How would you describe me then?”

He’s not comfortable in this lighting. He feels feverish beneath your steady stare, the way your eyes take their time as you look over every inch of him. The languid observation has him convinced you’re seeing right through him – your glance can pierce right through all his armor and expose every flaw. You see him for the monster he is, you see him for the bitter soul he’s become, you see him as the unworthy spawn he believes himself to be.

He almost swears that you even see right through his nice, simple plan at hand, not so easily fooled as he had believed you to be.

“Charming, certainly,” you suddenly sigh, sitting up and keeping your body mostly covered still with that knitted blanket. He’d only snagged it because the shade of the wool nearly matched your eyes – not that he was paying attention to your eyes, of course, “But then again, you’d have to be to have bedded me twice now, wouldn’t you?”

“We can always make it thrice,” he banters back, ignoring the bile that builds at the insinuation. But if that’s what it takes – laying on his back over and over again – to guarantee your protection, he’ll do it. He’d do it a thousand times over to keep himself as far away from Cazador’s chokehold as possible, “Does that entice you, love?”

When he turns his body fully, beginning a carefully and calculated crawl up the bed roll, ready to slot his body back between your thighs and encourage you to have his way with him, you stop him. The heel of your foot delicately presses against his chest, your head tilted curiously before you shake it.

“Who’s the eager pup now, Astarion?”

He likes the way his name drips off your tongue. Almost as if he might be made of the same sugar and spice as you, the same pure honey flowing through your veins also inhabiting his. You say it like a song, articulate it like the sweetest fruit.

He shouldn’t like it. It shouldn’t be able to overpower his lingering disgust with himself so easily.

“It’s hard not to be eager when it comes to you,” he says the line with good practice, beckoning a purr to his tone that had always won over the victims he’d entrap in dark taverns back in the city, “I said the Gods had made you just to ruin me, and I meant it.”

He’d meant it more than he’d realized. It wasn’t just your body that had been sculpted to draw him in – it was everything. Your entire aura, your entire glacé demeanor. All that innocence and all that geniality enticed him more than he could ever admit. You were certainly going to ruin him, so wholly and so entirely. You’d already started to, really.

You don’t respond at first, and he swears he has you. You’re locked in on his distraction, caught up in his web, just as he needs you to be. One lithe hand lifts to your ankle, cool fingers wrapping around your warm skin as he begins to lower his lips, ready to pepper kisses up your leg. Prepared to offer you his mouth, his body, in return for the one thing he needs. Self-loathing be damned.

Old habits die hard, right along with pride, and he’s not quite ready to bury either at your grave yet.

But just as he presses the first chaste kiss to your skin, nearly taken back by how your sweetness still breaks through the salty surface, you’re pulling the limb away from him. Your knee draws back and a disarming smile has risen on your cheeks, eyes glittering at him just as they had the night before.

“I suppose I’ll have to come find you when everyone is asleep, then.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

What exactly had he been waiting for? You, of course. But had he been waiting for you to find him solely for what had transpired? To explore your portfolios of talents once more, as he had put it? Or had it been for something more… precarious?

Was he nothing more than a prey, waiting for you to be his demise?

Had he actually been waiting for this?

The challenging look in your eyes as they reflected back stars, the warmth of your skin so close to him he nearly melts into you. The upturn of the corners of your mouth, outlining the way you certainly know something that he doesn’t. A look you wear well, a look that shakes his foundations and rattles his bones.

“As tempting as you are, I’ll have to decline. Duty calls, as they say.”

Can you see right through him?

He should be more deflated when you start going through the motions; he should be pouting or overthinking it all as he watches you gather your clothes once more, covering up the few bite marks of his that litter your skin. Every moment you prepare to leave his tent should be one spent overthinking where he’d gone wrong – why didn’t you want him? Was his plan even going to work?

Were you truly too sweet for him? Would he have been better off trying to romance the likes of Gale for the safety just shy of his grasp now?

He doesn’t, though. For once, his mind is quiet as he watches you patter about. The bile retreats, the disgust fades. For the first time in a very long time, Astarion is leaving this interaction not feeling used.

Maybe it’s in the way you cheekily snatch one of his shirts as you both pretend he doesn’t notice it, or maybe it’s in the gentle caress of your fingers through his hair as you pass him to pick back up your discarded weapon. Maybe it’s in every shy glance you offer him, or maybe it’s in your ever present grin.

Watching you leave should worry him, but it only feels like a breath of fresh air. A wind that comes sweeping in with the promise of next time just as you pull back the flap to his tent.

And he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting patiently for you to turn back to him until you do just this, offering him one final glance that sets him aflame, “Oh, and before I forget – you can feed on me tonight, if you need to.”

Heart of gold, blood of honey. He couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Then I’ll see your delicious self tonight,” he takes a pause, one big and unnecessary breath filling his chest alongside that warmth you bring to him. The fearless leader, the kindest soul. His most apt nickname for you yet falls off his lips in a content sigh, “My sweet.”

He shouldn’t entertain you – he shouldn’t let this go further than necessary.

But he’s going to. Gods, he is going to.

After all, the sweetest fruits always fall from the most forbidden branches, do they not?

#ghost's stories #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 #god i fucking love this song #idk why i really like the heart of gold blood of honey line #when i wrote it it really scratched an itch in my brain? it's probably stupid #no taglist except for reblogging on my makeshift tagging blog because i still have been too lazy to add astarion to the options #womp womp

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ganondoodle · 25 days ago

Note

About Shargon: What kind of compound are their horns made of? Is it the same as his teeth or skeleton? What’s the reason behind their glow? I think it’s really cool so I thought I’d ask

Thank you for the ask!

so, alot of demon anatomy revolves around their demonic heart and its blood (which is concentrated energy/magic- the color of which is determined by their elemental type, Shargon is type lightning, which is generally a mid blue going into greenish, but there are always slight color variations even between the same types) their bones too are made of crystalized demonic blood, its coated in a black layer of depleted blood (so the substance without energy) that acts as a sort of armor and makes the bones more durable and able to withstand even alot of bending (when a demon shape shifts their bones have to decrystalize to some extent to shift into different forms and sizes, its really uncomfortable or even painful depending on how well trained they are or in stressful situations since that process is something that needs to be done right or they end up really messy and vunerable) bones are also hollow and filled with demonic blood, it also aids their flexibility and the shapeshifting process and makes sure that if one is broken its quickly healed again since the bone doesnt have to decrystalize first

teeth and claws are not hollow and lack the black layer bc it eases using magic/energy through them and makes them harder to break, unlike the bones they are as hard as possible instead of flexible; the liquid blood isnt necessary since a broken tooth or claw usually gets discarded entirely and regrown from the ground up

horns are a mix of both, they dont have a black layer but are hollow (at least partly through) and filled with an even more concentrated version of demonic blood, very similar to heartblood (only found in the heart, the most concentrated version with a similar consistency; like a thick floaty liquid) and connected to it (you could see or feel a pulse in Shargons horns) but it lacks the genetic information actual heartblood carries- horns act mainly as a sensing aid ... like antenna in a way, or how whales melons work, it aids in sensing energy nearby, navigation, limited long range communication or if an energy wave that was sent out has hit something like a living demon .. or a dead one if theres still some remaining energy left (works best between demons of the same elemental type, but isnt limited to them and also depends on how skilled or mighty a demon is- for example, Eadrya, type water but extraordinarily powerful, could sent out even a really weak energy wave and they would be able to sense if it hits Shargon while Shargon himself might just feel there was some energy, but not from who or what type) and can pick up frequencies of distress calls that have lost the hearable part

the downside to that is if a horn was to break it might actually be the most painful thing to happen to a demon, even worse so if it draws blood, its like stabbing the most sensitive nerve that goes through their head and spine and heart, depending on the severity of the injury it might be paralyzing or drive a demon temporarily mad- worse than a stabwound into the heart itself

not all demons have horns, they are a very diverse kind of creatures that are each built better for different things (Eadrya doesnt have horns, the extreme amount of energy at their disposal pretty much closes any gap horns could have made in aiding senses- an advantage being less vunerability, a downside though is easy disturbance of anything relating to those senses by other energy types or frequencies .... and a general downside to Eadryas .. overproduction of magic even, is being basically the most detectable demon in the world due to them constantly emitting energy at very high levels if they are in good health)

(since Shargon (he/they) is the main example here, hes a demon that is built for speed and flexibility, for quick strikes out of the shadows, his bones are thin and bendable, his teeth are long, sharp and angled in various ways so if he bites he can lock it down hard without escape, even if the force of his bite isnt the strongest in itself- he can turn his head fully around multiple times (like an owl but worse) and his throat is largely made of pure muscle (the most muscle on him is his throat and to the big primary arms) perfect to bite and pull and twist until whatever he bit into gives out, getting him off of something is rather impossible without doing massive damage to it in the process (unless he lets go willingly of course)

-since i compared him to Eadrya (they/them) already- they are quick but only in water, their sheer size, thick skin, bones and well, body is really hard to damage, their teeth are small and all in the same shape in two rows on both sides, their maw is really wide and their bite force is pretty strong- if they bite it is with the intent to bite clean through, if that doesnt work they would need to let go and go for it again here older art but just to give you a general idea for Eadrya (demon form):

Thor (any pronouns) is another one that is really different- they are massive and armored with thick, hard plates, they are slow and have little mobility but are nigh impossible to take down unless you know exactly how; they dont have alot of teeth, rather small and probably not very sharp either and due to her two big tusks going forward its rather hard to actually get to anything to bite into, if she were though it would be somewhat akin to alligators (i think) that just smash their massive bones together to break whatever is in between with little to no actual 'biting' going on

(rather outdated art that i still, somehow, like- her humaoid form:

and an even MORE outdated ancient doodle of her demon form:

the only somewhat accurate part is the general shape and head, though the mouth isnt accurate anymore either ... barely anything is but something is better than nothing and the roughly lobster inspired design idea is still currently the idea)

OC lore ramble over :3

#ganondoodles answers #ganondoodles #art #original art #concept art #original characters #oc #ocs #oc lore #monsters #............unless i keept talking in the tags #another reason to why shargon is so good ... so much better at shape shifting quickly and even able to have intact mixed forms #might also be bc of his high pain tolerance- shapeshifting is or can very easily be painful #considering they have to .. liquify their bones to do it #and shargon is so used to pain his tolerance is high and he just .. does it anyway #which is probably not what the other demons expect to be the reason #... i keep worrying im making shargon really unlikable bc of all the shit hes been through #but also thats essential to his character #depressed abused and rejected from society demon with a special interest in humans and their world #i really need to study skull anatomy so i can make a better one at some point ... in the far future probably given how slow i am #forgive any weird spelling or something im not feeling well due to the migraines and am also extremely tired #...bc it takes me hours to write and draw anythign i guess #adding alt text tomorrow bc at least on tumblr you can add that later too

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